


Late Night Wanderings

by swingandswirl



Category: DC - Fandom, DCU (Comics), DCU - Comics
Genre: Batman Being Batman, Identity Porn, Lois Lane Is A Badass, M/M, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingandswirl/pseuds/swingandswirl
Summary: Lois gets an eyeful during a late-night visit to Wayne Towers. Written as a Christmas present for sasha_anu on LiveJournal.





	Late Night Wanderings

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Lois is not aware of either of the boys' identities.

Bruce Wayne’s philanthropy- among other things- was legendary, but the Gotham industrialist's  latest multi-million dollar donation to the Justice League was over-the-top, even by his standards. Watching the television broadcast of the Firestorm V’s dedication ceremony, Lois felt her usual mild irritation with the man balloon into full-blown distrust. Oh, he said all the right things- his parents’ murder had inspired him to do all he could to aid the pursuit of justice, he was deeply admiring of the work the JLA did and was honoured to be able to help them, yada yada- but something about the whole thing struck Lois as off.

   
She’d never liked the man the tabloids christened the Prince of Gotham, never understood why otherwise intelligent men and women flocked around him. It hadn’t helped that WayneTech managed to run just fine, despite its CEO being a complete idiot. It wasn’t logical, and if there was one thing Lois hated, it was when things weren’t logical.

   
Something was fishy about Bruce Wayne. Lois fully intended to find out _exactly_ what it was.

   
And if it ended up netting her another Pulitzer, so much the better.

   
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

   
It had taken three weeks, and several platters from Metropolis’ finest dives, but Bobby Bigmouth had finally come through. Lois’ fake WayneTech ID easily passed through the security check, and judicious application of a credit card and hairpin got her into the main building.

   
Lois snuck down the dimly lit corridor, sneakered feet sinking into the plush carpet. If there was anything to be found here, it would be in Wayne’s office. All the entrances to the presidential floor were locked, but the map Bobby had given her had a conveniently placed air duct that just happened to open into the offices of one Bruce Wayne. Luckily for Lois, there was some kind of strange modern art sculpture right underneath that she could use for leverage. She hoisted herself up and slid into the duct, wincing at the tight fit. _Right, no more late-night Krispy Kreme runs_ , she silently promised herself. She began to crawl along the narrow passage, pausing frequently to get her bearings. _Three… four… five…there!_ She turned into the side vent, hesitating slightly when she saw the room was lit.

   
Lois shook her head, silently scolding herself. She’d come this far, it couldn’t hurt to peek…

   
Carefully making her way to the end of the vent, she peered into the room.

   
Only years’ worth of sneaking around places she wasn’t supposed to be allowed Lois to muffle an oath. And even then, it was a close thing. Because if there was ever a scene that merited a good cussword or five, it was the one right in front of her.

  
Wayne was perched on the edge of his desk, head thrown back, shirt half-buttoned, tie dangling off one shoulder. His eyes were closed, his face taut with desire. Lois looked to see what brainless socialite was putting that expression on the Prince of Gotham, and had to grab the grille to steady herself. Because Bruce Wayne was perched half naked on his desk, being blown by someone who looked a hell of a lot like Superman.

   
Lois blinked. She was seeing things. There was no way Superman was doing Bruce Wayne, because Superman was straight, and interested in her. So either she was suffering from a caffeine-induced delusion, or the man currently on his knees before Wayne was an imposter.

   
She paused, torn. Bruce Wayne’s kinks were none of her business. She should simply turn around and leave. She had the Waynetech ID, she could come back again another day. A day when Wayne wasn’t being fucked on his desk by the doppelganger of the man she loved.

   
A noise brought her attention back to the men in the room. Wayne was writhing, the dim lighting painting his body golden, his scars like bronze ropes on tanned flesh, the expression on his face  one of pure, decadent pleasure.

  
Lois might detest the man, but she wasn’t blind. Or dead.

  
She pressed her face close to the grille, hoping to get a closer look. She had to hand it to Wayne- his partner looked very like the Man of Steel, with shaggy, jet-black hair, and a damn fine replica of Superman’s colours tossed on the chair. Even from this distance, she could tell the costume wasn’t the usual silk or spandex, but something far closer to the real deal.

   
The Superman double did something with his mouth, and Wayne practically *purred*, a low, throaty sound that went straight to Lois’ groin.

   
Damn, the man had good taste in rentboys.

   
Almost despite herself, Lois felt arousal flicker through her, tendrils of desire slowly coalescing into a low, raging flame in the pit of her stomach. She watched, rapt, as the playboy’s usually vapid face was transformed by desire and something else, into something harshly, breathtakingly beautiful.

   
Lois bit her lip, unwilling to give the slightest indication she was here. As she watched, wetness slowly spreading down her thighs, Wayne pulled away, and the other man actually _whimpered._

   
“Rao…Bruce, please, want more, so good, _mzhao_ , please…”

   
“What do you want, Kal?” Wayne asked, standing up and pulling his partner to him, the playboy drawl replaced by a low, commanding baritone, steel under silk. “For me to fuck you, bend you over my desk and make you scream? Or for me to take you in my mouth until you forget your own name? Or would you like to fuck me instead, come inside me while you suck my cock? Your choice, _elokyn_.” He leaned down, punctuating the words with kisses to the double’s jaw, his throat, his nose, his hands trailing along olive perfection.

   
Lois started, nearly giving herself away. _Kal?_ Although Superman had told her his Kryptonian name, she’d never published it… so how could Wayne know? And he’d called Wayne _mzhao_ … that sounded like something a lover would use.

   
As if on cue, the man in Superman’s costume turned his head, leaving Lois in no doubt of his identity.

   
Oh my God. Superman- the _real_ one- was in that room. Superman, the Big Blue Boy Scout, Mr. Truth and Justice himself, was in that office, naked and practically begging to be fucked by Bruce Wayne, the man who made Hugh Heffner blush. She was so shocked she almost missed the next words out of the Kryptonian’s mouth.

   
“Bruce… need more, need you, please,”

   
“Please what, Kal?”

   
“Fuck me, Bruce. Please.” 

   
Lois’ eyes widened. She’d never heard Superman sound quite like that, voice low and hoarse, the alien tones roughened by want. Quicker than she could blink, he’d reversed their positions so that he was now the one on the desk. Wayne cradled his lover’s face in his hands like fine Sevres, pressing gentle kisses to his eyelids, nose and jaw, before working his way down the other man’s chest, licking and nibbling at the flawless skin, Superman’s cries of pleasure interspersed with a stream of what Lois assumed was Kryptonian. The words might have been strange, unfamiliar, but the emotions running beneath them needed no translation.

   
Desire. Need. Longing.

   
Love.

   
Lois knew she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching something this private, this sacred, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away as Wayne slicked his fingers with lube ( _where had that come from? Oh, right, superspeed_ , Lois though distractedly) and prepared his lover. She bit her lip at the sounds coming from the superhero, reduced now to moans, a high, strange keening slowly building in the alien throat.

   
Wayne bent his head, kissing the other man deeply before shifting slightly. Superman must have liked it, because his hands gripped the sides of the desk, face rapt, eyes almost iridescent in the dim light. Lois couldn’t tear her eyes away, captivated by the rapture on that angelic face.

   
Wayne was close, too, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his face twisted in pleasure, his hands shaking ever so slightly, the blue-gray eyes darkened to charcoal, small grunts of pleasure mingling with Superman’s throaty cries.

   
She could feel the skritch-skritch of fine lace against her skin, the sweat pooling in the hollow of her breasts. She bit her lip again, the slap of skin on skin, the medley of voices a counterpoint to the desire spiking through her, stretching her nearly to the breaking point. She couldn’t help a small cry as she watched them climax, taking her with them, need for caution obliterated by the sheer beauty of the men before her, all thoughts of Bruce Wayne’s misdemeanors forgotten in the warm, post-orgasmic glow that surrounded all three of them.

   
She really should go, before they came to their senses and spotted her. But she found herself staying, compelled by some perverse need to see this through. Even if her heart was shattering more and more by the minute.

   
She carefully raised herself on shaky knees as Superman moved to the nearby couch, Wayne in his arms.

   
“So… what brought this on?” Lois heard him ask as he snuggled the other man close, cape enfolding them both. “Not that I’m complaining, mind…”

   
“Just wanted to remind you who exactly you belong to,” Wayne’s tone was teasing, affectionate, but Lois could hear the cold steel underneath the slow drawl. She met his eyes through the grille, seeing something in the billionaire’s cool gaze that both frightened and reassured her.

   
Superman had found his knight in shining armour.

   
Gathering the shards of her heart as she prepared to leave the building, Lois knew she would, too. Eventually.

   
In the meantime, this would do nicely for a fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written and posted in 2007 on my LiveJournal. Many thanks to arch_schatten and taro_twist for the beta/handholding.
> 
> At the time I wrote this, I was still filled with enough internal misogyny that Lois Lane bugged the crap out of me for no good reason. Granted, as I've gotten older I've realised that a good portion of why is that very few of the Superman adaptations do her justice, and it took me watching one (Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, with the wonderful Dean Cain and Teri Hatcher) to get me to fall in love with her. Despite our rather inauspicious beginning, I rather like this Lois. She's brave and ballsy and takes absolutely NO shit. 
> 
> Also, a small continuity note: Bobby Bigmouth is a character from Lois and Clark: TNAOS. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
